Galathil the Wood Elf
by dangerdan
Summary: Chronicles the adventures of Galathil, a young Wood elf from Cyrodiil as she embarks on an important adventure across Skyrim. The first two Volumes, Vol.1: Whiterun Calling and Vol.2: Riften Nights, are both complete. The third volume, Vol.3: Windhelm Rising, is currently in progress.
1. A Chance Encounter (Whiterun Calling)

**Chapter 1: A Chance Encounter**

The flames licked the firewood and seemed to hiss at her like some Serpent of Nordic legend.

"The wood _was_ wet," she thought. Still, it was the best the Hjallmarch had to offer this time of year and at least the rains had stopped. It was only going to get worse at any rate, it was still only Frost Fall.

"I should have just stayed at the Dead Man's Drink for the night." Then she would have a belly full of mead and a song in her ear.

Across the fire, some purple mountain flowers swayed in the wind, as though trying to escape the flames that were clawing at them.

The night was alive with music - the crackling of the fire, the distant sound of Lake Ilinalta feeding the White River, of the dragonflies buzzing, of the night birds singing their sweet song and...""

*CRUNCH*

Movement. In the distance. She unsheathed her iron dagger and slowly rose from the log she had made her chair. All she could see was the light of the fire in front of her and all she could hear was the rustling of the bushes further ahead.

...and then she saw it. Two long sharp teeth emerged from the bush and two bright shining eyes above them. A sabre cat, she realised, but it was too late. The beast was pounding towards her. She froze with terror. As it came upon the fire it seemed to take flight and suddenly it was above her. She closed her eyes.

*THUD* *THUD* *THUD*

Now it was on top of her, clawing at her stomach and biting at her face, except ... it wasn't moving. She opened her eyes and instantly met the eyes of the sabre cat. She didn't understand what was happening ... then she noticed an arrow fletch sticking out her would-be killer's ear.

"Are you alright?" a voice shouted, but she couldn't tell where from. "Quick, get that thing off her!"

As blood dripped onto her face from the dead sabre cat's ear, she tried with all her strength to push it off her. Suddenly the sabre cat flew up as quick as it flown towards her. A man and an elf held it between them like you might hold up a friend whose had one too many ales. A woman approached from her left.

"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" she asked. The man let out a hearty laugh. "I asked if you were alright."

"Sorry. I...I'm...I'm fine, th...thanks for the help." It didn't feel enough, but she didn't know what else to say, her heart was still racing.

"You're lucky we were passing by, " the elf said, "or the best part of _you_ would now be rotting in a sabre cat belly. Tell me, fellow Bosmer, what's your name?"

"Galathil." she replied, still shaking.

"A pleasure to meet you Galathil, my name is Silnor." the Bosmer replied. "I notice you don't have much in the way of equipment."

It was true, she didn't. All that she owned was set about that fire place. Her bedroll, her backpack (that contained nothing but a small axe and a few green apples), her trusty iron dagger and, of course, the clothes she was wearing.

"Do you even have a bow?"

"No." Not anymore, but she didn't want to think about that, let alone tell a complete stranger.

The woman laughed. "A Bosmer without a bow? A curious thing, like - "

"Like the Divines without Talos," the man interjected, studying Galathil's reaction throughout.

"Alright Ulren, save it for Sovngarde." the woman shot back. She looked furtively over each of her shoulders in turn. "Here's as good a place as any, I should think, and better than most. Might we share your camp fire whilst we eat, Galathil?"

"Of course, please do. I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" Galathil replied.

"I'm Falia, that oaf is my brother, Ulren, and Silnor you've already met." He bowed his head courteously at the mention of his name. "And we are The Hunter's Hand." Galathil looked on none the wiser.

"Surely you've heard of us?" Ulren asked with alarmed grimace.

"I'm afraid not." replied Galathil meekly.

"Alas, our star wanes Ulren." added Silnor, a sly smile etched across his face. "No matter, all the more reason to seek fame and fortune anew."

The four of them took their seats about the fire as Falia passed around some bread and cheese. Ulren offered her a bottle of ale, which she gladly accepted. Silnor had just finished skinning the sabre cat's pelt and was placing it in his backpack. "So what's your story, Galathil, what brings a Bosmer this far north?" Falia asked her through a mouthful of cheese.

"My story?" That was the last thing Galathil wanted to discuss. "Oh, it's far too long and boring for a night as cold as this."

"Perhaps another time then." Silnor chipped in and as he glanced across at Falia.

"Perhaps." Galathil smiled. She'd always had an easy smile, or so her younger brother Erthor had always told her. She thought about how much she missed Erthor, and her mother and father and little Indrel. And Faldan. She missed Faldan most of all. "If you're here, I'll find you brother." she thought to herself.

"Where are you heading?" Falia inquired. "We're following the White River up to Whiterun, you're more than welcome to share the road with us."

Galathil smiled her easy smile. "It would be an honour to travel with The Hunter's Hand".


	2. On The Road (Whiterun Calling)

**Chapter 2: On The Road**

At dawn, as the birds sang their morning birdsong and the running water roared in the background,they took off along the banks where Lake Ilnalta joins the White River. There was a sharp breeze in the air but otherwise it was a pleasant day. The Throat of the World was an ever invading presence on the landscape ahead. She had never believed it was truly the highest point in Tamriel but since she had seen it she could not doubt it.

"A fine day" Silnor noted "and no finer way to spend it than walking the banks of the White River." Galathil couldn't disagree with him; this part of Skyrim could be beautiful at this time of year.

"So, Galathil, you said your story was too long and boring for such a cold night, well, we've a long journey ahead and the warmth of day has broken. When better than now?" Falia's tone suggested she wanted an answer.

After the sabre cat incident, she had been hesitant to reveal too much about herself, even to her saviours. Now things seemed different. "If they meant me harm, they had the perfect chance last night." she thought.

"My family is from Cyrodiil. between Bruma and the Imperial City. That's where I was born. They lived further south, just outside Skingrad but that was before I was born. Before the Great War."

"Aye, the Great War changed a lot of things." replied Falia with a sadness in her voice.

"So what brings you north of the border?" Ulren asked. At this point, she saw no harm in telling them.

"I seek my brother, Faldan. He came to Skyrim a few years ago to seek his fortune. You'd like him, Silnor, I'm sure. Ever since he left, he would write us once a month telling us of his travels. That is, until a while back." She hadn't told anyone since she left home. It felt good to tell someone. "Eventually, me and my brother Erthor decided that we had to go and find him." At least to find out what happened to him, but she didn't want to think about that possibility. "Erthor is quite a few years younger than me, so my parents forbade him from leaving."

"So they let you go alone?" Silnor asked, almost shocked.

"Not at first, no, but I can be very stubborn when I choose to be, as you may one day learn for yourself." Galathil smiled her easy smile.

Eventually they stopped by the river bank for some food. Ulren caught some fresh salmon that Silnor roasted on a fire.

"We'll make Riverwood by dusk. We'll stay there for the night. Then on to Whiterun." Falia announced as they packed up their things.

They spent the evening having a few drinks at the Sleeping Giant Inn before setting up at a camping ground just outside Riverwood. While Ulren roasted some venison he had purchased from the Riverwood Trader and Falia attended the fire, Silnor sat down next to Galathil and thrust a hunting bow in her hands.

"A gift." he proclaimed. Galathil didn't know what to say.

"I can't..." she said after a few seconds.

"You must. Or else I bought this for nothing." He held a similar bow in his hands and pretended to pull back the bowstring, aiming across the fire at Ulren. "Besides, I have a special bow waiting for me at The Drunken Huntsman in Whiterun."

Galathil smiled her easy smile. "Thank you, you are too kind."

"It is the least I can do for a sister Bosmer." He smiled back at her.

"Is that why you're heading to Whiterun then? To collect your bow?" she asked.

"That is one of the reasons, yes." he replied.

"Food's ready." Ulren yelled from across the fire. Ulren was a big man and stern looking, but Galathil hadn't found him anything but friendly. His twin sister Falia was fair to look upon, her chestnut hair cascading about her shoulders. Silnor was the smallest of the three, despite looking the eldest, with his shining ruby eyes and sly smile.

Next to them Galathil felt a mere child. "I should have listened to my father," she thought sadly, "how can I hope to do this alone?". She felt safe with The Hunter's Hand, but they would surely part ways at some point. The incident at the border had taught her to be weary. "What if it happens again?" she wondered. There would be plenty of time to think about that in the future.

"Thank you all, for all your help." she said as they finished up eating. "I'm quite sure I'll never be able to repay you ... for the sabre cat, for the food and drink ... " She looked at Silnor and smiled her easy smile. "... or for the bow."

"There's no need. We were tracking the sabre cat anyway, you just proved an effective bait." Silnor smiled his sly smile. "Besides, I needed someone new to talk with, these two have heard all my best stories a hundred times over."

"Aye, and the rest." Falia added, already laughing at her own joke. Ulren chuckled and nodded in agreement. "Skyrim can be an unforgiving place, Galathil, especially to an outsider. That's why we have to help each other." Galathil smiled her easy smile and thanked them all again nonetheless.

They spent the rest of the night telling stories and jokes. Ulren told a joke that made Galathil blush but had Falia in fits of laughter. When the time came, they laid out their bedrolls and slept beneath the stars.

They left at first light, crossing the White River on the bridge at the edge of Riverwood. The journey from Riverwood to Whiterun was a short one and mostly downhill, so they made good time. Eventually Whiterun was an imposing fixture of the landscape, off in the distance.

"What will you do once you reach Whiterun, Galathil?" Falia asked.

"If I'm lucky, I'll find my brother Faldan and be back in Cyrodiil within a month. If not, then ..." she hadn't really thought that far ahead. "... I don't know." Whiterun. His last letter came from Whiterun.

"Then I will pray to the Nine that you _are_ lucky."

Ulren placed a hand above his brow and squinted into the distance. "That's Honningbrew Meadery, right? Good, I fancy a _proper_ drink." he declared.


	3. A Quiet Drink (Whiterun Calling)

**Chapter 3: A Quiet Drink**

As they entered Honningbrew Meadery, the barkeep was engaged in conversation with a tall and burly Imperial and a diminutive Breton.

"...which is fine, but it WILL cost more." the Breton was saying.

"And? Do you doubt my ability to pay?" the barkeep responded, before he spotted them entering, "Ah! Guests, do come in and take a seat, I'll be right over!" He turned back to the patrons at the bar. "We'll finish this later." The Imperial grunted in acknowledgement and went to a table at the far side of the meadery. His companion joined him.

A few other customers were seated at tables by themselves and a bard plucked a lute in the corner, though the only song he seemed to know was an advertisement for Honningbrew Meadery.

 _"After a hard day the one thing you need,_

 _is a full tank of that Honningbrew Mead!"_

Once Galathil and The Hunter's Hand had all taken a seat near the door, the barkeep came over. "Welcome to Honningbrew Meadery! Name's Sabjorn. What can I get you?" he asked with a jovial smile.

"Four Honningbrew Meads." Ulren responded. He looked around the rest of the group. "What do the rest of you want?" Galathil laughed ... and then realised he wasn't joking, he really had ordered _four_ meads for himself. "I'll take a Honningbrew too, please, just the one, mind!" She smiled her easy smile at Ulren.

"Aye," chipped in Falia, "me too ... and a sweet roll if you have any."

"Do you have any Black Briar Mead?" Silnor inquired.

" _That_ swill? Of course not, but I can go fill a tankard where the Whiterun sewers join the White River ... it would taste about the same, I assure you." replied Sabjorn, his voice now filled with derision and disdain.

"That won't be necessary, I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble." Silnor responded, his characteristic sly smile nowhere to be seen. "And I meant no offence, I'll take a Honningbrew too please." Sabjorn simply nodded and return to the bar. A few minutes later he returned with their drinks. Ulren passed him a handful of gold coins with his left hand and grabbed a tankard with his right.

When Galathil was halfway through her drink, and Ulren was well into his third, the Imperial at the far side of the hall stood up and cried "Everyone!" A hush fell across the meadery. "Everyone, I'd like to propose a toast...to High King Torygg and Emperor Titus Mede!" He raised his tankard high above his head. "High King Torygg! Emperor Mede!" His Breton companion joined him, though his tankard barely reached the Imperial's head. The other patrons and the proprietor followed their lead.

"To High King Torygg." Falia announced flatly whilst locking eyes with the Imperial, tankard raised. "To Emperor Mede." Silnor added. Galathil joined them. Ulren was unobliging, his eyes locked on the tankard in his hands. The Imperial looked across at him.

"Is there a problem, friend?" he asked, though his tone was not friendly.

"I don't know. Is there?" Ulren shot back.

"I raise a drink to the High King of Skyrim and the Emperor himself and you don't join, some might call that treason..." the Imperial was moving slowly towards him.

"Treason?!" Ulren stood, a flash of anger across his face. "For refusing to drink to the Emperor or his puppet? I think not. Anyone who would reject Talos rejects Skyrim itself." Now Falia was standing too, her hand on Ulren's shoulder.

"Enough! This is Honningbrew Meadery, not Jorrvaskr - I'll have no fights here!" The proprietor Sabjorn was stood between them. "Tarus, sit down and shut up. You lot, finish your drinks peacefully and leave before I'm forced to contact the authorities."

"No need." The Imperial gave a fake smile. "Come on Baltar. We've other business to attend. We'll be back this evening." He gestured to Ulren. "If we are lucky the Thalmor will have taken this one by then." With that the Imperial and his short companion took their leave of Honningbrew Meadery.

As they retook their seats, Falia whacked Ulren on the arm. "What's the matter with you, brother?" He didn't respond. Instead, he drank his final tankard of mead in three enormous mouthfuls, stood up and stormed out the meadery. "Stupid oaf, why couldn't he just raise his drink like the rest of us?"

"You know how he feels about Talos." Silnor said, whilst searching through his backpack.

"Of course I do! I pray to the Nine as devoutly as my brother! But he doesn't understand how dangerous such talk can be in public." Falia cried back, angrily at first but desperately in the end.

"Oh, I think he understands. He's not as foolish as you think." Silnor replied with characteristic calm, ignoring Falia's initial flash of anger.

"No, he's even more foolish than that if he doesn't think the Thalmor are dangerous." Falia finished her drink and wiped her mouth with her forearm. "Enough of this. Let's go." As they left Honningbrew Meadery, they found Ulren sat on a nearby rock.

"I'm sorry, sister." said Ulren with a sad look upon his face. Falia kissed him gently on the cheek. Galathil thought to her brothers, to Erthor and Faldan and how much she wanted to kiss both of them on the cheek. Without another word, they set off for Whiterun.

"What do you plan to do once you arrive in Whiterun?" Galathil asked them.

"The same thing we always do - work." Falia replied, "We have a contract to fulfil."

"That we do." added Ulren. "Who's the contract for again, sister?" Falia pulled a roll of paper out her pocket.

"Someone named Dalof, he owns 'The Fine Print', a book store in the Plains District." she replied.

"I know Dalof." Silnor chipped in. "I bought a few books from his store the last time we were in Whiterun. Very dull, that one ... even for a Nord." Falia whacked him on the arm and laughed.

They arrived at the gates of Whiterun by dusk.


	4. It Always Pours (Whiterun Calling)

**Chapter 4: It Always Pours**

Striding through the main gates of Whiterun, Galathil was taken aback by a sea of sounds and smells, some familiar, some exotic. As they approached the bustling market district, the din of the assembled masses grew louder and louder. There were Men and Mer from all corners of Tamriel; either selling their wares or perusing what was on offer. A few of the merchants were beginning to pack up their stalls. Galathil and The Hunter's Hand skirted the edge of the crowd and made their way up to the Bannered Mare.

"We should check if the Bannered Mare has enough room for us all." Falia had told them as they made their way up to the gates of Whiterun. Galathil hadn't slept in a real bed since she arrived in Skyrim - the very thought made her strangely excited. She had planned to stay at an Inn in Falkreath but that changed after the border crossing.

The Bannered Mare was as busy as the market outside and somehow louder. As they made their way to the counter, Galathil looked around the main mead hall. A group of Nords were singing a rousing rendition of ' _Ragnar the Red'._ Two imperials were sat at the far side of the room deep in conversation, complete with exaggerated hand gestures. A lone Redguard with a painted, white nose and a black hood in the style of the Alik'r warriors of Hammerfell sat in the corner. Two more Nords were engaged in a lover's embrace by the door they had just entered through. There was an Orc sat on one of the tall chairs by the counter, which he was using as a pillow. But there was no sign of Faldan. "Whiterun's a massive city," she thought, "I'm not likely to just run into him straight away."

"Excuse me," Ulren said, addressing the woman behind the counter, "do you have room enough to sleep four?"

"Of course, this is the Bannered Mare, the greatest Inn in Whiterun, maybe all of Skyrim." She laughed. "How many nights were you planning to stay?" she replied as she turned to face them, a smile beaming from ear to ear.

"Just the one, for now." Ulren replied. "We'll take four ales and four vegetable stews too, please."

"Of course, take a seat and I'll bring them over." she replied. They took a table in the corner by the door and waited for their food and drinks to arrive.

"Galathil, I've been wondering. You said your father was reluctant to let you leave home. Did he really let you leave with nothing but an empty backpack and an iron dagger?" Silnor asked as the woman from the counter came and placed four meads on the table.

"No, I had other things when I left, a bow, more food supplies ... gold." she replied, her voice full with sadness. Just thinking about it made her angry. "I suppose I'll have to tell them." she thought.

"What happened?" Falia asked with a concerned look on her face.

"It was at the border between Cyrodiil and Skyrim. I didn't want to use an official crossing in case they asked what I was doing. I don't know _who_ Faldan might be in trouble with. So I was crossing through a woods further down when three men stopped me. They took everything in my backpack and let me keep it as a joke. Luckily I keep my dagger in my boot. They took all my gold too. And my bow."

She still remembered their faces. The tall one with his long, mud coloured hair. The old, bald one with the broad chest. The one with the big nose and scar across his forehead. "They said they were border guards, and if I wanted to get into Skyrim that I had to pay the entry fee." It was all too much, she broke down in tears. Falia put her arm around her.

"It's ok. Don't worry about that anymore. You're here with us now, alive and well." Falia whispered. Galathil sat up straight and wiped away her tears. She hadn't cried about it before, even at the time. She had tried not to think about it as soon as it was over.

"And our food's here." Ulren said with a smile on his face. Sure enough, four bowls of stewed were being placed on the table. As they ate, they all told funny stories and jokes and before long Galathil was giggling along with the rest of them.

"So, this Dalof, what's the story?" Ulren asked, directed at Silnor.

"He owns The Fine Print which he runs with his brother Avar." He shrugged his shoulders. "He has a bitter rivalry with Lelda. You know, of Lelda's Library? Well, she's had the upper hand for a while now, ever since she got the contract to supply all of Jorrvaskr's library."

"Well," Falia said as she was standing up. "let's go see what he wants."

They made their way across the city, around the winding streets of the Plains District, until they came upon The Fine Print. It was a nice enough store, but nothing particularly impressive. As they entered, a Nord with thick black hair and a bushy beard to match was stood behind the counter.

"We're The Hunter's Hand," Falia announced, "I believe you were expecting us."

"That we were." The voice came from the other side of the store, where another Nord with thick black hair but no beard was sitting. "I'm Dalof and that's my brother Avar." Avar gave a nod. "It's a small problem really and I probably should've just gone to Jorraskr. But they don't send a single gold coin in my direction, why should I give them any of mine?"

"Indeed, " Falia responded, casting a sideways eye at Silnor, "so what is it you require of us?"

"Rats." he replied. "Rats in my basement. I've tried everything, setting traps, poisons, but I just can't seem to get them all and before long there's more than ever."

"I'm sure that my brother Ulren here will make short work of these rats come the morning." Falia replied, glancing across at Ulren, who didn't look very happy about being nominated in this way.

Avar's eyes lit up with realisation. "You should stay the night!" He said from the counter. "We have a spare room upstairs. That way you can start first thing."

"An excellent idea." Falia replied, a smile on her face. "We shall see you again tomorrow, brother."

"Aye." Ulren replied, rolling his eyes.

"Speaking of brothers, let us see if we can't find yours, Galathil." Silnor suggested as they were leaving the shop. "I assume he's a Bosmer, like you?"

"Of course!" Galathil replied, giggling.

"If he was in Whiterun, then my good friend Elrindir at The Drunken Huntsman will know. He knows _every_ Bosmer that passes through Whiterun." As they made their way across the Plains District, the streets grew quieter and quieter as night descended. Eventually they found themselves stood outside The Drunken Huntsman.

*Knock* *Knock*

"ELRINDIR! It's me, open up!" Silnor shouted while still banging the door. After a few seconds the door slowly opened, revealing a Bosmer with long red hair, braided on one side, just like Galathil's.

"Sly-Smile, you old dog! How are you? Here for your bow I take it?" Elrindir opened the door wider and ushered them all inside.

"That, and something far more important. Elrindir, I'd like you to meet Galathil." Silnor placed his hand on Galathil's shoulder.

"A fellow Bosmer! And one so fair, how my heart soars!" Elrindir said, as if noticing Galathil for the first time.

"A pleasure to meet you, Elrindir." Galathil smiled her easy smile.

"She's looking for her brother. A Bosmer named Faldan. I assured her that if he was in Whiterun, you would know."

"Faldan, you say? Yes, I do remember a Bosmer named Faldan, this was a week ago though, maybe more. He was seeking passage to Windhelm." Elrindir replied as he made his way behind the counter and started looking through the shelves.

"Windhelm? Did he say why?" Galathil blurted out, ecstatic that someone had seen Faldan.

"He didn't, and I didn't care to ask. 'You'll get no friendly welcome in Windhelm.' I told him, but he was insistent." Elrindir stood up from behind the counter with a large linen wrap in his hands. "Aha! Found it!" He placed it on the counter and unfurled the linen wrap to reveal a glistening glass bow. At either end was mounted a large, shining ruby. "What do you think?" Silnor picked it up slowly and studied it in his hands. The shining red rubies match his eyes, Galathil realised. Then she noticed that the bow was ... glowing a deep red colour. It was like nothing she had ever seen.

"Oh, yes," Silnor replied without taking his eyes off the bow, "oh, yes, this will do nicely. This will do _very_ nicely. As ever Elrindir, you have my thanks."

"And as ever, Sly-Smile, I have your gold, so all is well." Elrindir smiled at him.

"We're in Whiterun for a few days. I'll come see you again tomorrow, old friend." Sly-Smile replied.

"Be sure you do." he said as he bade them goodbye.

They made their way back across the Plains District to The Bannered Mare. As they ascended the steps to the main entrance, the Redguard with the white nose was just leaving and held the door open for them. The Orc was still asleep on the counter.

The next morning they walked down to the market to meet with Ulren. A light rain was falling from the sky. Silnor was chatting to Anoriath, Elrindir's brother, at the stall where he sold his meats and pelts, discussing his newly acquired bow. Falia and Galathil were sat on the edge of the market, eating some fruits for breakfast, when Ulren came strolling around the corner. As he came upon them so did three of the Whiterun city guards.

"Are you Ulren, of The Hunter's Hand?" one asked.

"Aye," he replied "what of it?"

"In the name of Jarl Balgruuf, you are under arrest for the murder of Dalof, owner of The Fine Print." The guard speaking was now stood in front of Ulren. His two colleagues were at Ulren's back. One placed a hand on Ulren's shoulder. Ulren yanked his arm back, whacking the guard square on the nose and sending him stumbling backwards into a nearby market stall. Galathil called out to Silnor, who was just noticing the disturbance and rushed across to meet them.

"ULREN! What are you doing? Stop! They'll kill you!" Falia was in tears but somehow managed to get the words out. Silnor placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded as their eyes met. He turned and disappeared through the crowd without saying a word. By now another two city guards were coming around the corner. They ran over as soon as they saw the commotion. The rain was getting heavier and Galathil's hair was wet through.

"I...I didn't..." Ulren said with a mixture of confusion and sadness, as he sank down to one knee. As the guards chained Ulren's hands together and began to lead him away from the market square, Galathil turned to Falia, who was staring into the distance with a face full of sorrow.

"Come on, Falia, we have to follow them!" Galathil cried out. Falia looked at her as if she wasn't there. Galathil grabbed her arm and pulled her up. "Come on!"

As they rounded the corner, they could see Ulren just ahead of them, surrounded now by six guards, and a growing crowd. "Ulren! Don't worry, we're here!" Galathil shouted, once they were close enough, still dragging Falia. Others in the crowd shouted less reassuring things; _"Murderer!", "The Jarl's Justice!"_ and _"Justice for Dalof!"._ As they reached the bottom of the steps to Dragonsreach, Galathil spotted the two men from Honningbrew Meadery stood on the side of the street.

"See, Baltar? What did I tell you? It seems we _are_ lucky today." The taller Imperial told his Breton companion, loud enough for most to hear, through a fit of laughter. Ulren heard and lunged violently at the man, knocking one of the guards to the floor, but his wrists and ankles were bound and he was soon on the floor next to the guard. The Imperial laughed even louder than before. Falia and Galathil stood and watched as they picked Ulren up and continued the marched towards the Jarl's palace, Dragonsreach. Now the rain was really pouring from the sky.

As they approached the base of the long steps up to the palace, Galathil spotted Silnor in the distance, leaning against the city walls, stood next to a city guard. She looked the other way and saw the other man from The Fine Print, Dalof's brother, Avar. For just a moment she was sure that he was smiling, but now he looked sad, angry even. When he noticed Galathil looking at him, he turned around and disappeared into the crowd.

By now they were dragging Ulren up the steps towards Dragonsreach. The assembled crowd remained at the bottom of the steps but were still in full voice, the rain not extinguishing their fiery anger. Their shouts grew quieter, though, as Ulren and the guards became smaller and smaller and before long they were gone, out of sight. Falia still hadn't said a word since they left the market. Galathil didn't really know what to say to her.

"We'll figure something out." she said meekly. Silnor had rejoined them. He put his arm around Falia and nodded at Galathil. The rain was coming down fiercely now and all three of them were soaked from hair to foot.

"Come. Let's go back to the Mare and sort this mess out." he said softly, his arm still around her shoulders. Galathil took Falia by the hand as the three of them returned silently to the Bannered Mare.


	5. Dark Of Night (Whiterun Calling)

**Chapter 5: Dark of Night**

The Bannered Mare was buzzing with talk of Dalof's murder and Ulren's subsequent arrest.

 _"He was a decent man. A good man."_ a man sat at the bar was saying.

 _"I'm just glad the guards caught the culprit so quickly!"_ his companion sat next to him replied.

 _"I can't believe Dalof is dead..."_ a woman sat in the corner was crying, her voice filled with sadness. A man had his arm around her, comforting her. As they made their way across the main mead hall, Galathil spotted the Redguard with the white nose from the previous evening, sat where he had been last night. She saw the Orc who had been asleep at the bar, though he was awake now.

 _"Damn fool should've just swallowed his pride and gone to Jorrvaskr. A real shame though."_ he was saying to the woman who had served them their stew. As they reached the stairs up to the rooms they had rented, a group of Nord's was sat against the wall.

 _"Aye. Still, I shouldn't think Avar will grieve for too long, eh?"_ one said with a smile, before taking a hearty swig from his tankard. Galathil looked across at Silnor, who looked deep in thought.

 _"Nor Lelda, I suppose."_ one of the others replied, causing a cry of laughter from the group.

 _"To Dalof!"_ yet a third of them said, and they all stood and raised their tankards. Once they had retaken their seats, Galathil conjured up all her courage and approached them.

"Excuse me, but why won't Avar grieve for Dalof? Wasn't he his brother?" she asked them. She couldn't even imagine not grieving for her brothers if anything bad ever happened to them. Erthor is safe at home, with mother and father, but Faldan ... Elrindir had told her he was seeking passage to Windhelm. The group sat in front of her fell silent and looked amongst themselves. Finally, a woman with green paint smeared across her face stood, towering over Galathil.

"Little elf, are you new in Whiterun or do you just live under a rock? Avar and Dalof never got along, everybody knows that." she said as another of her companions stood, laughing. Galathil looked over her shoulder and noticed that Silnor and Falia were already halfway up the stairs. "Avar even came to Jorrvaskr behind Dalof's back once. We told him we couldn't accept the contract unless Dalof actually _wanted_ us to, of course."

"Stubborn to the end, that one." one of the seated men chipped in.

"It would seem so," the woman said as she retook her seat, "now, is there anything else we can help you with?"

"No," Galathil replied, smiling her easy smile through blushing cheeks, "apologies for interrupting." She made her way back across the Bannered Mare and began walking up the stairs to rejoin Silnor and Falia. Halfway up the stairs she noticed the Redguard staring at her. As she entered, Silnor was changing out of his wet clothes

"According to Berolf," he looked across at Galathil, "he's a member of the city guard, you know? Well, he said that Avar was the one who reported it to the guard." Galathil nodded in agreement; she'd figured out that much herself. "He also has five men willing to vouch that he was at Wenda's Winesink from dusk to dawn. He's beyond reproach on this matter." That took her by surprise. If Avar hadn't even been at The Fine Print last night...

Falia had been sat silent in a chair on the far side of the room, staring at her feet, her soaking wet hair dripping on the floor. She looked up for the first time since Galathil entered.

"I have to see Ulren." she said, to no one in particular.

"I thought you might, Berolf has arranged for us to see him this evening." Silnor replied, with only a hint of his characteristic sly smile. Falia nodded, stood and left the room without another word.

"Once we've spoken to Ulren, we'll be leaving Whiterun, Galathil." Silnor announced as he was placing things in his backpack.

"I don't understand, will you get him out of jail?"

"No, jail breaks aren't exactly my speciality. That's just how it works. We don't know what's happening...we can't help him from the next cell."

"But Ulren didn't do anything! It must've been his brother, Avar." Galathil was confused and upset, she didn't understand how they could just abandon Ulren.

"Were you not listening, little one? He has multiple witnesses that he wasn't even there." Silnor replied, calm as ever. "And please Galathil, don't repeat what you just said to anyone else. I don't want to see you next to Ulren, or worse, Dalof."

She didn't know what to say, so she only nodded in agreement.

That evening, as the last of the daylight was disappearing behind the city walls, Galathil, Falia and Silnor made their way up to the base of the Jarl's formidable palace, Dragonsreach. A guard was waiting outside the entrance to the jail. He introduced himself as Berolf and lead them down the stone stairs towards the cell blocks.

"Last cell on the left." He announced as they a long room with cell doors on either side.

"Your help is, as ever, truly appreciated, friend. I owe you one." Silnor told him, with one hand placed on Berolf's shoulder.

"You owe me three now, Sly-Smile. I haven't forgotten the last two." Berolf replied with just a hint of a smile, whilst shaking his head.

Falia and Galathil made their way down the long room as Silnor and Berolf continued to talk. As they approached the final cell on the lift, Galathil spotted a shadow sat against the far wall, head hanging between it's legs.

"Ulren?" Falia said, ever so softly. Slowly, the shadow lifted it's head.

"Sister?" Ulren replied with surprise in his voice. "Are you to break me out?"

"This is no time for jokes, brother."

"Who's joking?" Ulren shot back with a smile on his face. "It is good to see you Falia." He rose to his feet. "You too, Galathil." She smiled her easy smile and nodded. "I was worried you'd leave straight away."

"Without saying goodbye? Never." Falia replied, through sobbing tears. She held her arms through the bars of the cell door and Ulren moved forward to meet her. Whilst they were embracing, Galathil again thought to her brothers, Erthor and Faldan, and her sister, little Indy. Suddenly, Silnor whistled and gestured to Falia and Galathil.

"We'll be back for you when we know more about what's going on. I love you brother." Falia said, having managed to compose herself.

"I love you too sister. Look after her for me Galathil." He said with a sad look across his face. With that, he turned and disappeared as the shadow emerged once again in his place.

They left the Dragonsreach jail in silence and returned to the Bannered Mare to collect their belongings. As they made their way through the winding streets of the Plains district, towards the main city gates, a thousand stars shined brightly across the night's sky.

Once they were outside the city gates, they made down to the Whiterun stables. A carriage was being readied by one of the stable hands. A surly looking Imperial emerged from the main stables.

"Is it ready yet?" he yelled at the stable hand, who in return gestured that it was indeed ready.

"Where are you heading?" Falia asked as they approached. The Imperial turned slowly to look at them. He had thick fair hair and just a hint of a beard.

"Riften. Why?" His voice was deep and harsh to the ear.

"Do you have room for three more?" Falia answered.

"Travel ain't free, you got the coin to pay?"

"We do." Silnor replied, pulling a coin purse from his pocket. The Imperial grunted and nodded at the carriage.


	6. A Gift Horse (Riften Nights)

**Chapter 6: A Gift Horse**

They were three days out of Whiterun and three days still from Riften. The journey had proved pleasant, in spite of the near constant rains and occasional snows. The carriage driver Earund had softened across the three days and yesterday had even joined Silnor in telling stories and jokes while they travelled. Falia had been quiet since they left Whiterun, as might be expected, and had taken to tying her hair up on top of her head, just like Silnor did. She is eager to get to Riften and check for news of Ulren, Galathil knew.

As they ate their bread and cheese about a morning campfire, Earund was packing the last of his belongings back on his carriage.

"Come on, the sun is shining," he called out, seemingly oblivious to the light rain, "and the road is calling our names!"

"We're coming!" Galathil replied, smiling her easy smile. Silnor began extinguishing the fire as Galathil gathered their belongings. Falia took her seat on the back of the carriage and Galathil and Silnor soon joined her. They gave Earund the all clear and took off towards Riften.

After a few uneventful hours on the road, two figures on horseback emerged from the woods just further down the road.

"Bandits." Earund mumbled softly. Silnor ushered to Galathil to lay down on the carriage, which came to a halt.

"Don't worry, " one of the bandits called out, in a half familiar voice, "we're not going to kill you."

"No," the other continued, "we're just going to take all your stuff."

"Don't think you are." Earund shot back gruffly. One of the bandits laughed.

"Don't you? Well, I don't care for what you think." Galathil heard the sound of a sword being unsheathed and peeked over the edge but all she could see was the carriage's horses. "Come on, Hagun, let's just get this over with." Galathil could hear horses hooves but the carriage wasn't moving.

"Ready, Falia?" Silnor asked. She only nodded. They both stood. Silnor drew his bow, aiming it at one of the bandits.

"Turn around and ride back into the woods you came from." He said firmly. Galathil had never heard Silnor like this. She heard another bow being drawn.

"If you shoot, so does my good friend Hagun here ... and then we're both dead. And you don't want that, do you?"

"Of course not, Falia?" He glanced across at her. She unsheathed one of the daggers she kept at her waist and flung it forwards. Galathil heard an almighty scream. She sprang up behind Falia to see one bandit on the floor, a dagger in his skull. The other looked on in shock. He began moving towards them on horseback. Silnor released the arrow from his bow which hit the remaining bandit square in the chest. In an instant he was on fire, flames rising from every limb of his body. Galathil couldn't believe her eyes. As the horse realised his rider was aflame, he bucked up to try and toss the flaming bandit and dashed towards them. The rider had simply slipped around and was hanging from the horse like a saddlebag. The horse veered to avoid crashing into the horses of their carriage. Suddenly, there was a loud crunching sound as the horse went crashing into the wheel of the carriage. Galathil was thrown out of the carriage onto the floor. The horse continued to bolt, the burning bandit still stuck to it's back.

As they composed themselves, Falia and Silnor clambered down from the broken carriage. Galathil rose to her feet. The carriage driver Earund was staring at the broken carriage wheel. "

"Oh, for the love of Mara!" He cried out. "It's broken clean through, the carriage ain't going any further today." Falia and Silnor looked at each other and then Silnor walked over to look at the carriage with Earund. Falia placed her arm over Galathil's shoulder. They walked over to the fallen bandit on the floor, with a dagger in his skull and a sea of blood around his head.

Falia placed a boot on his chest and yanked the dagger free. Galathil stood over the bandit, studying him. He had a big, broken nose, a big gash between his eyes and his face was covered in blood. Suddenly, Galathil recognised the man lay before her - it was one of the Nords who had robbed her at the Cyrodiil to Skyrim border. She didn't know how to feel. She'd felt so angry at the time, but now he was dead on the ground and she didn't know how to feel. Hagun, his friend called him. Falia was going through the dead man's pockets. His horse was shying away on the side of the road. Galathil walked over to the chestnut coloured horse and stroked it's mane.

"Falia..." Galathil said as Falia moved to check the horses saddlebags. "You know, I think I'd like to own a horse one day."


	7. Little Elf Lost (Riften Nights)

**Chapter 7: Little Elf Lost**

"You'd like to own a horse? Well, you are looking one in the mouth." Falia replied while she was searching through the horses saddle bags.

"But it's not mine." Galathil looked shocked. Falia was not wrong though, Galathil was face to face with the chestnut horse, combing her fingers through it's off-white mane. The horse that had belonged to one of the bandits, Hagun the other one had called him, who had robbed her on her way into Skyrim. She felt a palpable sense of relief. Ever since the incident at the border, she had been worried about running into them again. She was lucky she was still with the Hunter's Hand. She was lucky she was still with Falia and Silnor. She wondered if she would be so lucky if she ran into the other two.

"Don't suppose he's got much use for it," Falia replied, nodding at the fallen bandit, "do you?" Galathil didn't reply. Could she really ride his horse? "Well, either you have it, or we sell it at the next farm that'll give us a decent price, or else Riften stables, if need be." Falia went to join Silnor and Earund who were still inspecting the broken carriage. Galathil walked up and down the horse, checking for injuries. The horse seemed to be in good condition.

"Falia!" She called out. "I'll keep him." She smiled her easy smile. Falia smiled back and nodded. Galathil tied her newly acquired horse to a nearby tree branch, it wouldn't do to have him run away the first day she got him. She walked over to join the others. Silnor turned to her as she approached.

"Galathil, we're to travel on foot to Riften. Earund will wait here with his carriage and horses - he has too much valuable cargo to leave the carriage unattended. Once we pass a farm or suitable homestead we'll hire a stable boy or the like to come back and assist Earund." Galathil nodded in agreement. Earund was beginning to let his horses loose from the carriage.

"I'm going to keep the horse. The one that didn't run away."

"Oh, are you?" Silnor was smiling his sly smile. "And what are you going to call it?"

"Him. It's a him and his name is Sweetness." A good name, she thought.

"Well, you best get your Sweetness ready, we'll be heading out in a moment." He replied. Galathil went over to Sweetness and removed the saddle bags and saddle. She laid them down next to the fallen bandit. Falia and Silnor approached.

"Galathil, what are you doing?" Falia asked.

"These are all his things. Not mine." Galathil replied without looking at either of them. She had hoped she might have found some of her belongings, but none of the bags were her own.

They set off for Riften on foot, with Galathil leading Sweetness. Later that day, they came upon a farm and sent help to Earund as they had promised. They made a camping grounds in the woods that night. The second day had heavy rain that made for an unpleasant journey, particularly for Sweetness, who didn't seem to much enjoy the rain. As the sun was setting on the end of an uneventful third day, they reached Riften stables.

Riften was a marvel of a city, Galathil thought, built half upon a lake as it was. Lake Honrich, Silnor informed her. The light of the setting sun seemed to bounce off the clear blue waters. Galathil left her Sweetness in the care of the stables and they entered the city.

If Riften looked a marvel from the stables, it looked anything but from inside the city walls, Galathil thought. There was a quiet in the air but the city was bustling with a mixture of Nords, Argonians and Dunmer mostly, but there were other races dotted about. They began to meander along the path towards the market square in Plankside, the side of the city over Lake Honrich, Galathil learned.

"We'll need to find some lodgings." Silnor said as they wove their way through the bustling masses.

"Why? Have they closed the Barb since I was last in Riften?. It's work we need to find." Falia replied. The Whiterun job had left them out of pocket, Galathil knew.

"Indeed." He said as they rounded a corner. Suddenly, Galathil could see the waters of Lake Honrich just beneath them as they entered Plankside. Galathil looked down and could see people walking the planks below Plankside. Their were people carrying baskets of fish, checking fishing nets and washing their clothes in the clear blue waters of Lake Honrich. A city within a city, Galathil thought.

"Careful now, Falia," Silnor continued, "don't fall in." He smiled his sly smile. Falia whacked him on the arm in return and pushed him towards the guard rail.

"I think it's you who should to be careful, Silnor." Galathil chipped in, laughing. "Careful some fiery Nord woman doesn't push you in." Falia chuckled and nodded in agreement, wagging a finger at Silnor in a playful manner.

As they came upon the main market square, a small crowd was assembled on the far side, near the path leading up to Mistveil Keep, the Jarl's palace. They began to make their way over to see what the commotion was. A young child was being dragged by the guards, she could just about see.

"That's the third time this week." One man was saying to another.

"Aye, and I doubt it'll be the last." The other replied. "He was in my shop the other day looking for work!"

"Get off me you stinking Nords, I keep telling you I ain't no orphan!" cried out a voice that Galathil instantly recognised as that of her younger brother, Erthor.


	8. The Latest Reserve (Riften Nights)

**Chapter 8: The Latest Reserve**

"That's my brother!" Galathil blurted out whilst grabbing Silnor's arm and pointing.

"Who? Faldan?" Silnor asked with shock.

"No, no! There! The boy! Come on!" She was pulling at his arm now and dragging him over to the guards who were dragging Erthor. "Erthor! It's me, Galathil!"

"Gally? Is that you?" Erthor replied, trying to break free of the guards grasp, "Oi! Get off me, that's my sister! I told you I ain't an orphan!" The guards looked amongst themselves.

"It's true!" Galathil shouted at the guards, "That's my little brother!" Finally the guards stopped.

"Might be so." The guard was wearing a blue neck scarf that draped down the front of his armour, as was customary in the Rift. He had long golden hair that covered half his face. "But a sister ain't parents, is she?" The other guards laughed. "Where are your parents, then?"

Galathil hesitated for a moment. She couldn't say they were in Cyrodiil - that was as good as admitting they had none. "They're at the family farm a full day's ride from here." The guard looked sceptical.

"It's true," Silnor chipped in, "I'm their uncle." He knelt down so his eyes met Erthor's. "Erthor, what were you thinking? Your mother will be so worried." Erthor seemed confused at first but after a moment he realised what was happening. The guards looked amongst themselves.

"I'm sorry uncle. You do know how much I love Riften." He looked up at the guard who had spoken earlier. "I didn't plan to spend a week in Horrorhall though."

Another of the guards whacked him on the back of the head. "It's Honorhall and you know it."

"That's what I said," Erthor objected, "you need to clean your ears out, you do." The face of the guard went red with anger.

"What did you just say, you impudent elf scum?"

"Enough! Enough of this nonsense." the golden haired guard declared. "Get him out of here, he's wasted enough of our time this past week anyway. Move along folks, nothing to see here." The crowd slowly began to go about their business and once they had the guards continued about their own business.

Galathil threw herself at Erthor and wrapped her arms around him tightly. "Brother..." she was beginning to sob, "what in Oblivion are you doing here?"

He looked taken aback by the question. "Well, I'm looking for Faldan, obviously. And you. I was looking for you, too."

"Do mother and father know?" Galathil asked him, with her best angry parent face on display.

"I suppose they must do by now, Gally. I've been gone close to a month. Did I ask or tell them I was leaving, you mean? Well, of course I didn't. I'm not as stupid as you, you know. They'd have only said no." He had one eyebrow raised above the other, as he was want to do when he knew he was being smug. Galathil was angry that he'd called her stupid but this wasn't the time or the place.

"We should get off the streets before we attract another crowd, let's head to the Barb." Silnor announced. They slowly meandered their way back through the town, towards the Bee and Barb. As the Barb came into view around one of the narrow street corners, Falia placed her hand on Erthor's shoulder. Her other hand was on the hilt of one of the daggers at her waist.

"What was that you were saying about 'stinking' Nords, back there?" Erthor froze still as a look of panic shot across his face. "I'll have you know some of us smell quite sweet." She ruffled her fingers through his short, unkempt hair and laughed. Eventually, Erthor broke into a smile.

"I know that, I was just angry at the guards. My friend Wendy smells quite sweet, and she's a Nord."

"And who's Wendy?" Galathil asked as they made their way through the Bee and Barb's main entrance.

"One of my friends from Horrorhall. Wendaline is her proper name, but I call her Wendy. Just like I call you Gally."

"Just like I've told you before not to call me that."

"Whatever you say, Gally." Galathil rolled her eyes in despair.

Next to the Mare in Whiterun, it was a hovel. Nonetheless, it was heaving tonight. They soon learned the reason: Blackbriar Meadery had released the latest instalment of it's famous Blackbriar Reserve. Even back home in Cyrodiil, people knew the name Blackbriar. Patrons who couldn't afford a full bottle at the Meadery itself would come to the Barb for a small glass of that golden nectar. The main hall was full of noise and in high spirits. They jostled through the crowd until they were stood at the bar.

"Reserve's 20 coins for a small tankard, 50 for a large, but bare in mind it's 250 coins a bottle at the Meadery! So what'll it be?" the barkeep asked. She was an Argonian with gold and black scales. Her eyes were pools of molten lava.

"Actually, it's rooms we need, not Reserve. Two, if you have them." Silnor was leaning with one arm propped on the bar. Luckily, they still had three rooms available, so they paid for two of them.

"Now, would you like any drinks?" the Argonian barkeep asked after handing them their room keys. Silnor looked across to Falia, who answered.

"Yes, please, we'd like -" As Falia was speaking, the Argonian simply put down the tankard she was cleaning and walked away. At the same moment, a distinct quiet fell across the Bee and Barb. As they turned to see what had caused the quiet, Galathil spotted a Nordic woman stood in the doorway, dressed in the most majestic red robes that coin could buy. Her hair was a deep brown and tied in a manner befitting the Jarl's court. She was being greeted by the Argonian barkeep.

"Who is that?" Galathil asked the others.

"Come on, Gally, you ain't that stupid. That's Maven Blackbriar!" Erthor said, with one eyebrow raised above the other.


	9. A Bee Sting (Riften Nights)

**Chapter 9: A Bee Sting**

"Why do you keep talking like that? Saying 'ain't' and stuff? You're the stupid one." Galathil shot back at him.

"That's how Wendy says it and I think it sounds better, so there." Erthor stuck his tongue out at Galathil.

"Now, now, children." Silnor said with a disappointed look. Meanwhile, a crowd was forming around Maven, a crowd of patrons fawning over the latest Blackbriar Reserve. "Let's continue this upstairs, shall we?" They made their way upstairs and managed to find a table with three chairs, after a quick search they found a fourth that wasn't being used.

"I need to write to my mother and father." Galathil announced as they were sitting down.

"There should a parchment and quill in the room. I'll see if I can't get those drinks now..." Falia said as she was heading back downstairs.

"You're parents didn't given you permission to leave and find Faldan, did they Galathil?" The look on Silnor's face was one of genuine concern. She shook her head as she stood up and went to their room. She sat at the desk and began writing;

 _Dear Mother and Father_

 _I trust that this letter finds you well. I am in Skyrim, searching for Faldan. I know you forbade me from leaving. I'm so sorry. I have found Erthor, so please don't worry too much about him, or me. We're together, safe and well, with friends. I'll write as often as I can. I miss you both so much. We will find Faldan._

 _Always thinking of you._

 _Galathil (and Erthor)_

It was all she could think to write for now. Her parents would be angry, she knew, but they'd be glad to hear from her still. They'd be even gladder she found Erthor. She had to tell them. She rolled up the parchment and returned to the table, where Falia was placing three large and one small tankards on the table.

"Three meads and a milk." she declared.

"Not the Reserve?" Silnor inquired.

"Not unless you've got coin you're hiding from me," Falia shot back, "we're low on funds."

"So we are." Silnor replied, picking up one of the tankards.

"We need to make some quick coin then head on out to Windhelm. That's where Elrindir said Faldan was heading, right? Plus, it's closer to Whiterun, so there may be news of Ulren. There's nothing for us in Riften." Falia continued as she took her seat at the table and her tankard in hand.

"What? We can't leave Riften! I won't! Not without Wendy!" Erthor shouted, his mouth covered in milk. Falia and Silnor exchanged a look.

"Don't be stupid, Erthor, how do you know she even wants to come with us?" Galathil wasn't going to miss an opportunity to call Erthor stupid, not with the way he was acting.

"Well she wants to leave that stinking orphanage, I know that for sure. They all do." he replied.

"I'm sure they do. We'll have to see what we can do when we're ready to leave." Silnor told him, placing his hand on his shoulder. Erthor nodded.

As they drank, Erthor recounted to them how he had ended up in Riften. He'd originally intended to end up in Whiterun, he said, but he'd taken a wrong turn somewhere near the border. It was a good thing he had, Galathil thought, given what had happened to her. Erthor didn't need to know about that. After a few days mulling around Riften, the guards had picked him up and taken him to Honorhall, the Riften orphanage.

"And then I kept trying to escape, but they'd always catch me. Eventually they just my knew my face, I guess."

"You're lucky we found you, brother." Galathil told him.

"I know, Gally. Thanks, all of you." As he spoke, Maven Blackbriar entered the upstairs hall flanked by two men that Galathil recognised from Honningbrew Meadery, the arrogant Imperial and the small Breton. She couldn't remember their names. She looked at Falia, then Silnor. They had both noticed as well. The three went to an empty table on the far side of the hall. As they continued their conversation, Galathil and Falia noticed that the Imperial was pointing at them. Falia instantly stood, placed down her tankard and began to walk over.

"Careful now, Falia." Silnor said as he stood up to join her.

"I know what I'm doing." Falia said confidently. Galathil took Erthor by the hand and they followed.

"Is there a problem, friend?" Falia shot at the Imperial. He stood.

"I don't know. Is there?" He was glaring at Falia.

"Tarus, take a seat." Maven Blackbriar said calmly. "And you are?"

"Apologies, Maven. My name is Falia, and this is Silnor, we are the Hunter's Hand. These are our friends, Galathil and Erthor." she replied, as calm as Maven.

"The Hunter's Hand? Involved in a nasty incident in Whiterun, I heard. And aren't you the one that kept running away from Honorhall?" she replied, the last part directed at Erthor.

"A case of mistaken identity in Whiterun, I assure you." This time it was Silnor who replied. "We're looking for work."

"Work, is it?" Maven replied thoughtfully, "and how do I know I can trust you?"

"Because of what I'm about to tell you." Falia began. "These two are working for Sabjorn at Honningbrew Meadery, we saw them there discussing a job." The Breton raised his eyebrows. The Imperial twitched at the mouth.

"That isn't true, dear," Maven replied, "and do you know why I know that isn't true? Because the first thing Baltar and Tarus did when they arrived in Riften was to come to me, to tell me exactly what Sabjorn had asked them to do, and how much he'd paid them, and what he'd had for breakfast that morning." She chuckled. "Maven Blackbriar can always pay more, these two knew it, everyone knows it."

Falia clearly hadn't expected that and didn't know what to say.

"I think I may have a job for you though, yes," Maven continued, "I have a shipment of cargo down at Riften stables waiting for a carriage driver that was supposed to be here three days ago." Silnor and Falia exchanged a glance. "Two of the guards were kind enough to agree to guard the shipment." Maven said with a particular smile. Galathil knew what she meant; the guards kindness came at a price. "It is a particularly valuable shipment, though, so I'd appreciate an extra set of guards."

"What's wrong with these two?" Falia asked suspiciously, gesturing at Baltar and Tarus.

"Plenty, I should think." Maven replied with a smile, the Imperial scouring at her suggestion. "I jest. They're busy."

"We'll do it," Silnor replied instantly, "but our price is two horses." Falia looked at Silnor and smiled.

"If the shipment is still there in the morning, you can have two horses. As I said, it is quite valuable." Maven wasn't smiling.

"And you'll tell that awful Grelod to let us take my friend Wendy from the orphanage?" Erthor had pushed his way between Falia and Silnor.

"Erthor, keep your mouth shut, this isn't your business!" Galathil chastised. Maven only laughed. She looked to Silnor who nodded.

"Fine. Meet the guards by the stables in an hour. Now if you'll excuse us, we _were_ in the middle of something." Maven finally responded. Silnor thanked Maven and they retook their seats on the other side of the inn.

After nearly an hour, they made their way to the stables. Galathil insisted that Erthor stay behind and go to bed, which he was not at all pleased about. At the stables they found the guards, as Maven had said they would. The one from earlier with the mop of golden hair across half his face greeted them.

"Mara, save us!" He exclaimed into the night's sky. "Are you the best Maven could find?"

"We'll do just fine." Falia was clutching a dagger in each hand.

"We shall see, I just hope you know how to use those." He swept his yellow mane out of his face as he spoke. He was incredibly fair to look upon, Galathil couldn't help but notice. His fellow guard was anything but fair, with an ugly face to match his ugly expression. "Come on, the crates are around the other side of the stables."

They made their way around to the other side of the stables, where a few log benches and a camp fire had been set up. Galathil was glad because there was a chill in the air. As they took their seats, the two guards began oiling their swords. Silnor had his bow from the Drunken Huntsman across his knees. Falia was sliding her daggers against one another. Galathil took her bow in hand too, just because she felt that was what she was supposed to do at a time like this.

"T'will be a quiet night if we're lucky." The ugly guard said, finally breaking the silence.

"Aye." His golden haired friend replied. He looked at Falia. "You got a pretty name to match that pretty face?"

"Aye," she replied, rolling her eyes, "you got a cheesy name to match that cheesy line?"

"Aye." He replied laughing heartily. He turned to Galathil. "What about you?"

"I'm Galathil," she replied, smiling her easy smile, "thanks for your understanding earlier. I do hope my brother hasn't caused too much trouble."

"He caused enough, believe me." Finally, he turned to Silnor. "And you?"

"Silnor." He replied, nodding courteously.

"Well, I'm Eden and this ugly fellow is Odul. Pleasures all around, I'm sure."

"Maven better have that carriage ready tomorrow," the ugly guard Odul began, "I can't be doing another night of this, don't care how much-" He was cut off by a thudding sound. Galathil looked up and noticed he had an arrow through his heart.

"Ambush!" Eden shouted, grabbing his sword. He pointed across the camp fire. "From that direction!"

Silnor and Falia instantly shot up. Galathil followed with her hunting bow. All four of them darted for cover behind some nearby trees.

"Right." Eden began, his golden hair glistening in the moonlight. "Me and the pretty lady up front. You two provide cover from range." They all nodded in response.

"Let's do this." Falia said as she sprang from behind the tree and advanced forward. Galathil turned slowly around the tree with an arrow at the ready. She could see three bandits, two charging at them full speed and an archer hanging back.

"There was only supposed to be two!" The archer shouted. "Why is there five?"

"We'll talk about it later!" cried one the charging bandits, a warhammer held high above his head. The other had a sword and shield. They were charging at Falia and Eden.

Silnor was next to Galathil with his bow drawn. He loosed it in the direction of the archer but he jumped out of the way at the last minute.

The warhammer wielder slammed his warhammer down. Falia fell backwards and just avoided the head of the hammer. The bandit laughed as he lifted the warhammer high above his head whilst standing over Falia. She dove towards him, tackling him to the ground. He dropped his warhammer and Falia was on top of him.

The enemy archer shifted his bow from Silnor to Falia and loosed. Galathil loosed hers in return but she panicked and it strayed well wide of the bandit. The enemy arrow was flying straight at Falia until Eden jumped across and shoved his shield in the way as the arrow flew by. The sword wielding bandit was swinging wildly at him, too, and Eden met him sword with sword. Falia shouted something before plunging both her daggers through the bandits head. Eden and the other bandit began exchanging sword and shield.

Silnor loosed an arrow that hit the archer square in the chest. As it did, an arrow came soaring at them from the bushes a bit further back. It hit Silnor in the arm and he dropped his bow. He cried out in pain. Another archer emerged just behind where the first lay dying or already dead.

"Silnor!" Galathil cried out.

"The other archer," he began, through a wealth of moans, "Galathil, you have to get the other archer."

The bandit with the sword was driving Eden back with every swing. After a few swings Eden stepped backwards and hit a tree at his back. He lifted up his shield. Falia was on her feet again and moving towards the bandit. She moved up behind him carefully and slid a dagger through the back of his neck. He dropped to the floor. An arrow flew over Falia's shoulder and hit Eden's shield.

Galathil had her bow at the ready and was aiming towards the archer. She held her hands as steadily as she could and tried to slow her breathing. After what seemed like an eternity looking down the length of her arrow shaft, she loosed. The bandit was notching another arrow and was caught unaware. The arrow hit him in the head. Galathil dropped her bow as the bandit dropped to the floor.

"Is..." Falia began, "is that the last of them?" She was breathing heavily.

"Looks like it, but keep you guard." Eden replied, wiping his brow.

"Falia! It's Silnor, you have to help him!" Galathil shouted before sinking to her knees.

"I'm fine." Silnor announced with grimace in his voice. "It's just a scratch." The arrow was still lodged all the way through his arm.

"But you're bleeding!" There was red dripping down his arm. Falia and Eden were running over. Silnor snapped the arrow just above where it had entered and pulled it out by the point. He cried out in pain. Eden removed his blue scarf and tore it in half. He knelt beside Silnor and began wrapping the torn scarf around Silnor's arm where the arrow had entered.

"I'm fine." Silnor repeated. "Just won't be shooting my bow for a while, I suppose."

"We should get you to a healer to be sure." Eden replied.

"Wow, Gally," Erthor shouted out, "I never realised you were such a good shot. I hope you're not badly hurt, Silnor."

"I was always better than you brother. You know you're not supposed to be out here." Galathil replied turning around. "Where are you?" She couldn't see her brother.

"Up here, silly!" He replied. As Galathil looked up at the trees she could see Erthor sat on one of the higher branches, sticking his tongue out. A little girl was sat next to him.


	10. Job Well Done (Riften Nights)

**Chapter 10: Job Well Done**

"Wendy, I assume?" Galathil asked while lifting her eyes high into the trees.

"Nothing gets past you, does it Gally?" Erthor was laughing as he made his way down from the tree. After each step, he stopped to turn back to Wendy and offer her his hand. "Aye," he continued as he jumped down to the ground, "this is Wendy." He held his hand out. The little girl with the golden hair took his hand and leapt to the ground. She looked at Galathil and smiled a pure and innocent smile.

"I'm Wendy, pleased to meet you, Erthor's told me a lot about you." She had a voice to match her smile; all light and grace. Galathil didn't want to know what Ethor had told her, she had a pretty good idea already.

"You were supposed to stay in the room." Galathil tried to make the face their mother made when she was telling them off.

"Yeah but it was boring," Erthor began, looking at his feet, "me and Wendy always come out here when we're bored."

"Fine." Galathil replied, rolling her eyes. "Go sit by the fire where I can see you, and don't move." He did as he was told and Wendy followed.

Galathil turned back to see Falia kneeling next to Silnor, who was still lying on the ground. Slowly, he made his way to his feet with the help of Falia and Eden. They moved carefully toward the camp fire.

"Come on," Falia said to Eden "help me get him to a healer."

"Not until the morning. I'm not doing the hardest part of a job just to leave the rest unfinished. I like to get paid." He replied whilst running a hand through his long, yellow hair.

"He's right, Falia," Silnor interjected, his voice still etched with pain, "I'll be fine until the morning. We've got a job to finish." Falia had no choice but to concede. They sat Silnor down at the camp fire next to Erthor, who introduced him to Wendy. Eden walked off round to the front of the stables and return with a shovel in his hands. He began digging a hole.

"Was he..." Falia was stood next to him, "was he a friend?" Eden looked at her, shrugged and continued digging.

"Just glad I don't have to look at that ugly face anymore," he replied, looking up at Falia, "not when there's such beauty in the world." Falia laughed and began walking back to the camp fire. "What, that's all the thanks I get for saving your life?"

"You did no such thing." Falia replied, not turning back to face Eden.

"He did!" Erthor shouted out as he stood up. "The arrow was flying right for your head, it was," Erthor was jumping around mimicking Eden in the fight, "but he saw and then dived across to get his shield in the way. It was pretty awesome." Erthor was smiling a beaming smile. Falia was blushing.

"I'm sorry," she began, turning back to Eden, "thank you." He bowed his head in response as he continued digging.

Once Eden had buried Odul, it was the middle of the night. They all sat about the fire and tried to keep warm. The mood was sombre but they made occasional small talk. Before long, Galathil found herself falling asleep.

When she opened her eyes, the light of day was a blinding presence, burning her eyes. She quickly looked about the camp fire for the others. Erthor and Wendy were both asleep across the fire. Falia, Eden and Silnor were all awake. Falia was changing the dressing on Silnor's wound. Eden was stood facing towards the stables with his back to the camp fire.

"Maven's new carriage is due any time now." He announced, looking off in to the distance. "I'll be glad to finally get some sleep. Not to mention paid."

"Aye, and we can get him to a healer." Falia replied, gesturing at Silnor.

Just as Eden had said, the new carriage turned up shortly after. They helped the driver load up the cargo on to the back of the carriage. Just as they were finishing, Maven came walking around the corner accompanied by Tarus and Baltar.

"A fine morning," Maven began as she approached them, "and a fine sight. The wheels of my business operation back in motion. Quite literally."

"So the job's done?" Falia asked.

"Look's that way to me, indeed. Your payment, two horses, as promised, is waiting at the stables. And I arranged for you take the girl, but I can see you've already done that." She was looking across at the camp fire where Wendy and Erthor were waking up. Tarus was glaring at Falia.

"We didn't know," Galathil blurted out, "she was hiding up a tree with my brother."

"I do not doubt it. Either way, it doesn't matter. If you intend to stay in Riften, I may have more work for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend." She handed Eden a brimming coin purse and headed back towards the Riften city gates.

"Right," Falia started, "now that's done, we can get Silnor to a healer."

"I know just the one, come on." Eden replied while weighing up his coin purse.

"I need to check on Sweetness," Galathil answered, "and find a courier for my letter." Falia nodded.

"Check our horses, too, Galathil." Silnor told her. "Get them all ready to head out. Take Erthor and Wendy as well."

"You can't travel like this." Falia looked concerned.

"We'll let Eden's healer decide that." Silnor insisted, Falia relented and nodded her head in agreement. "Now, shall we?"

With that, Falia, Silnor and Eden made their way in to Riften proper. Galathil called to Erthor and Wendy and they made their way around to the stables. Wendy and Erthor went by the stable house and began throwing hay at each other. She found her Sweetness and checked that he was fed and watered. Afterwards, she looked for the stable boy to ask about the horses Maven had left for them. Two fine looking horses; one as black as midnight, mane and all, the other was a charcoal grey with a bright white mane. She fed and watered them as she had her Sweetness.

She began asking passing riders and carriage drivers if they were heading to Cyrodiil, in the hopes of finding a courier for her letter. Most only laughed if they responded at all. After a while she found a rider who said he was heading to Bruma. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, but she might not find anyone else before they had to leave for Windhelm. She gave him some gold coins, her letter and instructions on where to deliver it. As he disappeared into the distance, Falia, Silnor and Eden returned to the stables.

"Well?" Galathil shouted as they were still approaching. Silnor's arm was tied around his neck, she noticed.

"Nothing serious," he replied, "could have been a lot worse at any rate. Did you sort the horses?"

"I did, it's those two over there." she replied, gesturing at the horses.

"I call the black one," Silnor shouted as soon as they turned.

"As you prefer, they've both got four legs as far as I can see," Falia replied, "and we've no time to wait for a leaving ceremony."

"Then this is where I take my leave." Eden announced.

"Thanks for the help, friend." Silnor replied, offering out his good hand. Eden shook it, placed a hand on Silnor's shoulder and nodded.

"If you ever get bored of patrolling the streets of Riften, the Hunter's Hand would be glad to have you." Falia said.

"The Hunter's Hand," Eden replied, turning to face Falia, "or you?"

She whacked him on the arm and they hugged. He hugged Galathil and Wendy and then knelt next to Erthor.

"Do try and stay out of trouble, little one." he was messing with Erthor's hair as he spoke. He stood and began walking back towards Riften. "May Talos guide you all."

"Erthor, could you fetch Nightmare for me?" Silnor asked. Erthor clearly didn't understand. "My horse." Silnor continued, smiling his sly smile. Falia went with Erthor and got her grey horse.

"Wendy, you'll ride with me," Falia began as they returned, "Erthor, you'll ride with Galathil on Sweetness, at least until Silnor's arm recovers, then you can ride with him. Now let's mount up."

"Has she got a name?" Wendy asked Falia as Galathil helped her on to the back of the grey horse.

"Why don't you choose one, dear?" Falia replied while adjusting the reins.

"She looks like a good stable one to me, how about Surefoot?" Wendy replied in her sweet, soft voice.

"I like it." Falia replied, "Let's hope she's good to her name."

Galathil and Erthor got on to Sweetness once Silnor had got on to Nightmare. He had his glistening glass bow on his back and was controlling the horse with just his good arm. Galathil had her own bow, the one Silnor had given her, on her back. Wendy wrapped her arms tightly around Falia. Erthor laughed and stuck his tongue out at her. As Galathil began trotting forward on Sweetness, Erthor quickly wrapped his arms around her waist and Wendy erupted in a fit of laughter. As the sun was still rising up in to the sky, they left Riften stables and headed to Windhelm.

* * *

 _Author's Notes: I hope you've enjoyed the opening two volumes of Galathil's story, Volume 1 'Whiterun Calling' and Volume 2 'Riften Nights', even a tiny bit as much as I've enjoyed writing them. I should be back in a few weeks with Chapter 11, the first in Volume 3 'Windhelm Rising'._


	11. Welcome To Windhelm (Windhelm Rising)

**Chapter 11: Welcome to Windhelm**

"The Empire has thrown us the Thalmor." a man with a long white beard was addressing a crowd. "There are those who say the Emperor had no choice, that defeat to the Thalmor was inevitable. I say, how is it Hammerfell yet stands against the Thalmor? How is it the Redguards fought back their Gray skinned invaders? The Emperor, Titus Mede II, traded our right to worship Talos in exchange for becoming a puppet of the Thalmor." the ragged looking preacher laughed out loud, before spitting on the floor, "Well there's what I think of Titus Mede," he spat on the floor again, "and there's what I think of High King Torygg. High King of Skyrim agrees to outlaw Talos worship? He has forsaken Skyrim and it's people!" his voice was growing to a fever pitch, "Now there are Thalmor Justiciar's in every corner of Skyrim; from Solitude to Riften, from Falkreath to Dawnstar, from Winterhold to Morthal. Well, not in Windhelm. Never in Windhelm! Not while Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak yet draws breathe! Just ask the people of Markarth - Torygg abandoned them twice and Ulfric not once! I ask you all, will _you_ ever forsake Skyrim? Will _you_ ever forsake Talos?" the ragged preacher chanted, his voice hanging on that final word.

"No!" one man cried, "Never!" a woman responded, "There are Nine Divines!" another man shouted.

"There was a time when men spoke not of Nine, but of Eight," an old Nord with a long black hair had spoke up, "and One."

"Indeed, Vlar, the One who ascended, but it matters not. Eight and one is nine by any count, not eight as the Thalmor would claim. The Thalmor can not be trusted. The Dunmer can not be trusted." the preacher had walked slowly down the steps and was now stood in the midst of the crowd, an arm around the elderly Nord's shoulders.

"Aye!" came the response from the crowd. The old, black-haired Nord shook off the preacher's arm and exited the crowded square. He had a sharp, angry look on his face as he bounded past Galathil and down one of the many windy, winding alleys that littered Windhelm. Erthor and Wendy were chasing each other round in circles, screaming their little heads off. Falia and Silnor were listening attentively as the preacher made his way back to the top of the steps from which he made his address. He was old and frail, so one of the Jarl's Stormcloaks helped him up the final few steps.

"Jarl Ulfric says; enough is enough!" he continued after turning to face the crowd, who were hanging on his every word. "He is to leave for Solitude before year's end where he will demand an end of the ban on Talos worship." Some of the crowd cheered.

"And if he refuses?" A Dunmer leaning against a wall on the far side of the square interjected. The crowd fell quiet. "Which he will."

The preacher ran his hand through his beard thoughtfully as silence hung in the air.

"Well, Tendril, then we Nord's have our own way of dealing with things, as you should well know." He had a playful smile on his lips. "I tell you now and I tell you true. Fear not. Jarl Ulfric will be the salvation of Skyrim, it's land and it's people! Enough for today, I must rest. You all know where to find me if you would seek counsel. May Talos guide you all." The young Stormcloak who had helped before once again stretched out his arm and helped the preacher down the steps and out the square.

Slowly, the assembled crowd began to go about their business. Two Nords began walking towards them; one with short orange hair and broad shoulders and another with long, wiry black hair and a bushy beard to match.

"Dunmer usually feel more welcome in the Gray Quarter, you know?" the one with orange hair said to Galathil as they were approaching. She was taken aback.

"Is you really that stupid?" his friend replied, "Can't you see she's a Bosmer?"

"Bosmer...Dunmer, what's the difference? She could still work for the Thalmor couldn't she?" he replied while shrugging his shoulders. Galathil was worried.

"Just keep walking, ogre-face." Falia said firmly.

"Such nasty words from such a pretty face," the one with orange hair replied, "you can do better than these lot. Why don't you come with us instead?"

"Barun, Hogar, don't you have better places to be?" The voice was a member of the city guard. He was wearing the quilted blue that was typical of the Stormcloaks and had no hair on his head or face, except above his eyes. The two men stared at him for a few seconds before carrying on about their journey. "I'm sorry about that, you folks just arrived, right? Well, welcome to Windhelm. You all have a good night now." With that he continued walking his patrol.

Galathil thought back to Whiterun, to the Drunken Huntsman and to Elrindir. He had spoken to Faldan before Faldan came to Windhelm. She remembered what he had told her.

"'You'll get no friendly welcome in Windhelm.' I told him."


End file.
